


Untitled 58

by TenRoseForeverandever



Series: Drabbles of the Doctor and His Rose [58]
Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, Introspection, Romance, stubborn idiots in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-05
Updated: 2020-01-05
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:40:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22136443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TenRoseForeverandever/pseuds/TenRoseForeverandever
Summary: The repercussions of a row between Tentoo and Rose on New Year's Eve.
Relationships: Metacrisis Tenth Doctor/Rose Tyler
Series: Drabbles of the Doctor and His Rose [58]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/311325
Comments: 20
Kudos: 59





	Untitled 58

**Author's Note:**

> My angst-with-a-happy-ending contribution to New Year... a little late, of course. But Happy New Year to one and all! <3
> 
> This is unbetaed, so the mistakes are well and truly my own.
> 
> This is a one of my multi-drabble stories, each verse 100 words. It is part of my _Drabbles of the Doctor and His Rose_ series, but not part of _These Two Hearts_.

* * *

It was almost midnight; the countdown was about to begin. Then, the anticipated moment would be over. Finito. No do-overs.

The Doctor’s life was ticking away, a countdown of fixed points. No going back… ever.

Not that going back had ever been a good option, even when he’d had his TARDIS. The repercussions of crossing one’s own timeline were too terrible to consider.

Still, if he could have, he would have taken the chance tonight, changed his past. Maybe then, he wouldn’t be standing here alone, waiting for the fireworks to begin. Tonight, he wished he could turn back time.

They had rowed.

He’d wanted to spend a quiet night in with a good movie. Rose had insisted they go to the Torchwood New Year’s bash. All her team would be there, celebrating. “It could be fun,” she’d said, “if you’d give it a chance.”

He’d balked. Not that the promise of nibbles wasn’t tempting; he would just prefer to be nibbling Rose. Not that he didn’t covet the opportunity to show off his cleverness; he would just prefer to remind Rose how impressive he was… privately… maybe show her some of his moves, create some fireworks of their own.

But he’d been inflexible, and Rose had _not_ been impressed.

She’d been livid and stormed out, the flat shuddering with the impact of the door crashing in its frame.

Ashamed and miserable, he’d tinkered in his study all evening, instead of relenting and joining her. Then just before midnight, he’d turned on the telly to the New Year’s countdown and opened the champagne he’d bought to share with her tonight.

He stood on the balcony, alone, looking out over the city. The sound of the countdown filtered out through the patio door.

This wasn’t the quiet night in he’d craved.

10 – 9 – 8…

His life was inexorably slipping away. No second chances; he was that sort of a man. Mortal now, just like Rose.

7 – 6 – 5…

He’d resolved to change, be better, try harder. He’d vowed to no longer be the man who lived with nothing but regrets, evading, letting the love of his lives slip through his fingers time and again. Yet, here he was, doing exactly that.

4 – 3 – 2…

It was too late to reach her in time for the midnight kiss. He’d been stubborn, wasted precious time that could have spent by her side.

1…

Fireworks blossomed across the city. Cheers rang out from other flats and the streets below, and the familiar tones of Auld Lang Syne washed over him. He took a swig of champagne directly from the bottle, spluttering on the bubbles erupting in his throat and fizzing in his nose.

Bitter and painful… like regret.

He thrust the bottle up, a sardonic toast to the New Year and he thought of Rose, wondering if she would be toasting the New Year right now, hugging her friends, dancing, having fun. He refused to consider she might have found someone else to kiss.

He thunked the bottle down, ignoring the champagne foam sputtering all over the balcony as he bolted inside, grabbing his coat from the hook by the door.

It wasn’t too late to go to her. Since when had he ever arrived anywhere on time, anyway?

For so long, she had followed him, come back to him. Now, it was time for him to follow her, go wherever she led. Her hand to hold was all he would ever need to get across this universe. Having her by his side, counting down their lives together, was all he could ever want.

He barrelled out the door and dashed to the stairs, leaping down three at a time.

The party was in the Torchwood cafeteria, only two blocks from the flat. If he ran, he could have Rose in his arms within moments.

He sprinted, dashing down the pavement, dodging pedestrians, eliciting cries of admonishment from some.

Vaulting a bicycle rack, he sped across the busy street, ignoring the blaring car horns, then careened into the side-street running behind Torchwood Tower. It was filled with cars, haphazardly parked along the curbs.

And there, glittering in the light of a streetlamp, was Rose.

He staggered to a halt, ending his reckless rush.

Dumbfounded, he and Rose just stared at each other across the distance.

Then a wide smile broke over Rose’s face. Kicking off her shoes, she broke into a run, and suddenly, he was running again too, both of them rushing, headlong, toward each other, beaming with joy.

It was so like the moment that had led to his creation.

It wasn’t quite like going back in time, but it was a chance to set things right: no dalek, just them and a deserted street, finding each other after far too long.

Suddenly, she was in his arms, legs wrapped around his waist, arms entwined around his neck.

As their eyes met, brimming with wordless apologies, their lips crashed together, an impassioned _five-minutes-after-midnight_ kiss, welcoming the New Year and banishing the final hours of the last year to the past.

They clung to each other for many long moments, then meandered hand-in-hand. He declined to go home, and she refused to return to the gala. Eventually, they went for chips.

It didn’t really matter where they went, they would go there together, sharing a lifetime of fixed points and never looking back.

* * *


End file.
